


Diversion

by incenseandpeppermints



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incenseandpeppermints/pseuds/incenseandpeppermints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the Curtis parents' deaths, Dallas strikes up a fight with Tim Shepard and gets more than he bargained for. Not that he's complaining or anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diversion

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to zevie. :) Sorry you didn't get to read it when it was posted on FF!

You lean against the side of Buck's, watching the smoke swirl off the dangling cigarette between your lips in hazy, gray streams. The air is uninviting against your bare arms, and you wonder why the hell you ain't gone inside yet. Force of habit to honor Mrs. Curtis probably. No one else gives a damn about smoking indoors unless your batshit mother counts, and the only reason she hates it is she claims it makes her hair go flat. She's on something, man. It's official.

One way or another, Buck's is your final destination. Tonight more than ever. You can't put the Curtis's out after … fuck it. You can't stand Randle's snoring. That's why. He probably ain't courteous enough to be considerate of the solemn occasion, and you'd be sharing the couch with him.

The door creeps open and Buck peeks his head out. "You gonna stand out here all night, stranger? Like my old lady always says, you'll catch your death in this cold."

You flick the ashes in Buck's direction. "In that case, I think I'll stay put."

"C'mon, man, you're shivering head to toe," Buck insists with a look that tells you the real reason he's showing you charity is _he knows_. That sonuvabitch knows.

You groan and pry yourself away from the siding. "Whatever you say, Merril." There's comfort in knowing someone in the universe still gives a hang about you now that Mrs. C is gone, even if it's grimy ol' Buck. Not that you'll thank him anytime soon.

A couple steps in, you notice Tim on a bar stool. "Well, well, well, if ain't _you_." You approach him, a smirk across your lips. The night just got the slightest bit better. Takes your mind off the hurt to see this jackass. Your gramma's right; there is a God, and he just handed you a safe means to blow off steam on a silver platter. Why bother with a random asshole when Shepard'll gladly accept your invitation to a fist fight?

"Just you, me, and Buckeroo now," you continue, breathing close to his neck. "You realize last call was over an hour ago? That means everyone _but_ me scrams. Can only assume you wanna see me."

Tim keeps his head down, doesn't look up from his empty drink. "Fuck off, Winston."

You take the hostility as an open invitation to the adjacent stool.

Tim looks up, cranes his neck so you lock eyes. "This why you an' Sylvia never work out?"

"What?"

"You're sitting closer to me than my girlfriend does."

Bullshit. There's two whole feet between you, but you don't let it get to you. Unlike him, you can take a joke. Unlike him, you pride's strong enough to handle that kind of insult. Everyone knows you ain't queer, and Tim's dig is nothing more than a sign you'll be successful in starting this brawl. "Well, if she sits this far away from ya, it's a wonder you ever get any. Here, lemme buy you another drink as condolences." You nod to Buck to refill Tim's glass. "Jus' put it on my tab."

Buck shakes his head and honors the request. Last call was an hour ago, but Buck's as fluid with time as he is rules. "One of these days, I'mma call that tab in," he threatens as he pours, but his threats are just as empty. "Then what're you gonna do, Dally?"

"C'mon, Buck, you know I'm a man of my word. Next time we play poker, I'll sweep your money and pay ya back with my winnings, sound like a deal?"

Tim snorts.

"Jealous?" you ask. You both know you'd steal his chips too. Tim can't play poker worth shit.

He scoffs and helps himself to the drink _you_ bought him. "More like relieved I kicked you to the curb when you wanted back in my gang."

"That the lie you tell them boys now?" You lean closer and raise both eyebrows. "You kicked me out? Funny I seem to remember leaving by my own free will."

Tim doesn't answer. He haves at that drink, ignoring you on purpose; just like Johnny does when he wants to be a shithead. "A 'thanks for the drink' might be nice."

He glares at you, his eyes a perfect mixture of anger and disgust. "Yeah, thanks for the drink, Buck."

Buck smiles and nods in Tim's direction.

You stand up and rest your elbow against the corner of the counter. Tim cusses under his breath, but he doesn't budge. Not one inch. That tells you he wants this fight just as bad as you. Sooner or later he'll have to face the music. _He_ loves this shit. _He_ lives for it. He may be in a piss poor mood tonight, but all the better. All the more reason to go at it. You're in a piss poor mood, too, and the obvious solution is to take it out on each other.

You cock your head to the side and light up a cigarette. "Sometimes when you stare at me like that, I think 'damn, that sonuvabitch must wanna a piece of this.'"

You watch for a reaction. He balls a fist, contemplating a punch. "Piece of what?"

You smile a self-satisfied grin and motion to your jeans. "I dunno, you tell me."

Two beats later he pins you to the ground and rips the cigarette out of your mouth.

You shove him away. "Can't you take a joke?"

He recovers fast and takes a swing.

"Dallas," Buck growls from across the bar.

 _Damn it, Buck_.

"Knock it off. It's two in the goddamned mornin'."

Who gives a fuck? You ain't got your fair share of retaliation in yet.

Tim lets up at Buck's request. _Coward_. He stands over you, wiping a thin trail of sweat off his brow. "This ain't over, Winston."

"Damn straight, it ain't," you hiss as you pull yourself up. When he turns around, you knock him to the ground.

Buck grabs your shoulder and pulls you away from Tim. "I said knock it off." He pants for a breath, flustered as hell. "You don't need to do this tonight. Especially tonight."

Tim dusts his jacket off and downs the rest of his beer. "See you around, Buck," he says and exits the bar without acknowledging you. Not a word. Not even a glare.

You storm after him. Buck tries to hold you back. The bastard thinks he's doing you a favor, but he ain't got a clue.

You tear yourself out of his grip and bolt for the door.

"If you walk out that door, find yourself another place to sleep tonight," Buck says tiredly.

He don't mean it. He's just trying to stop you, and he won't. Shepard can't walk away from your fight that easy. He probably did that on purpose, expecting you to chase after him, so the two of you can finish this off without Buck's interference.

You catch up to Shepard before he reaches his car. "Pussying out, are we?"

His answer his predictable. He replies with heavy blow to your gut that knocks the wind straight out of you.

You gasp. Not even the adrenaline can save you from that hit, but as soon as you catch your breath, he's done for. He pulls you up and pins you against the hood of his car. "Done yet?"

You spit in his face. "No."

He instinctively lets go for a split second to whip the spit away, and you seize the opportunity to take a lead, clocking him with just as cheap of a punch he as doled you. You continue like this, trading off the advantage. You're an even match, you and Tim, and this could go all night. Only it doesn't.

You hear sirens.

Fucking hell. Just what you need. Maybe it's for you, maybe not. Probably not, but no use chancing it.

Tim feels the same, jumping in the driver's seat fast enough it looks like some kind of a movie stunt. Doesn't even bother to shove you out when you file in shotgun either. There's an unspoken understanding you'll help the other avoid arrest, but that's the extent of your kindness. Nothing more.

He revs the engine and pulls out of the lot going at least sixty.


End file.
